


ink and paper prayers

by kitsunerei88



Series: ink [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Development, Cultural References, Culture, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:08:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26519536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunerei88/pseuds/kitsunerei88
Summary: It’s OWL year, and Cho Chang has too many things on her mind. She needs top grades, especially because she didn’t make prefect, and no Quidditch this year only means one less thing that can go on her Healer applications. On top of that, she has her traditional Chinese paper magic exams in the summer, and therefore absolutely no time for bullshit.Enter Cedric Diggory: seventh-year, Hufflepuff prefect, and Triwizard Champion.
Relationships: Cho Chang/Cedric Diggory
Series: ink [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007259
Comments: 16
Kudos: 56
Collections: Fic In A Box





	ink and paper prayers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tavina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tavina/gifts).



> Thank you to beelzebubble_tea, mercuryandglass, and sonderlynights for sensitivity and culture-checking! Not all Chinese diaspora is the same and I really appreciate your time in reviewing this!

The envelope fell into her lap, right before Yuen fell onto her breakfast with an unimpressed shiver. It wasn’t even October yet, but the chill was already in the air—for their family’s crested goshawk, a tropical bird of prey, it wasn’t far from freezing. Cho pushed her mug of hot tea towards him, and he shoved his beak into it and huddled unhappily towards warm ceramic.

“You’ve lived in Britain for ten years,” Cho said, frowning at her family messenger and fiddling with the envelope in her lap. “You should be used to the cold by now.”

Yuen gave her another unimpressed stare and stole a bit of egg from her plate. Just read the letter, she imagined the bird telling her, then give me your reply and a warming spell and let me go back to London, where it might be wet but it won’t be as cold as it is here.

“It can’t be that bad.” Marietta, sitting beside her, nodded at the envelope. “Might as well get it over with, Cho.”

Cho shook her head. It was one of those things that she could never explain to her non-Asian friends—it was never that bad. There would be absolutely nothing in the letter that could even mildly be construed as upsetting, and it would probably be a very routine letter asking how Cho was doing, asking about her classes, and reminding her to practice her calligraphy. But she would open it, and she would feel her parents’ disappointment as clearly as if they were right there in front of her. 

She hadn’t made prefect. Marietta was the one who wore the shiny blue-and-gold prefect’s badge, not Cho, and while Cho couldn’t say that she was that unhappy about it—being a prefect was a lot of work—her parents’ disappointment had been palpable. They hadn’t had to say anything because Cho would hear it anyway.

Did we immigrate to Britain for our daughter to _fail?_ Do we work so hard to be accepted here so that our daughter can be anything less than her potential? Or maybe—she just doesn’t have much potential? Maybe this is just the best our daughter can do.

Being a prefect would have been great on her Healer applications. Being a prefect would have given Cho something to write about in her Healer applications, something other than the expensive summer programs and internships that her family couldn’t afford and that she knew that half of the other students would have on their applications. If Cho had been picked to be a prefect, she would have accepted the responsibility happily, but she hadn’t.

She hadn’t, and instead, she would need to rely on—well, she didn’t know. She didn’t even have _Quidditch_ to fall back on this year, not with the Triwizard Tournament happening instead, and not even a month into school, she was behind on studying. Again.

Not having anything else to say, she slipped one finger underneath the edge of the flap and ripped the envelope open. 琸, the scant sheet of paper started, and the rest was exactly as she had expected—questions about schooling, an admonishment not to do anything stupid like putting her name in for the Triwizard Tournament, and a reminder to study hard and to practice her calligraphy. She shook her head and reached into her bag for a sheet of paper. Paper, and not parchment, because parchment was too expensive for notes home.

It took only a few minutes for Cho to scrawl her reply—she was fine, school was fine, her grades were fine, no she would not be trying to get into the Triwizard Tournament, and yes, she would practice her calligraphy. It was a rote reply, and she knew that her characters were a bit messy, but she handed the note to Yuen anyway.

Yuen ruffled his feathers, a stern reminder that if Cho wanted him to go back out into the cold, he needed a Heating Charm. She glared back at him.

“I’m getting to it,” she told the bird, rustling through her bag to find parchment, a brush, and her special inkbottle. Paper charms would last better than a wand-charm for the hours-long flight back to London, since she could be more precise. Marietta cleared off space at the table for her, and Cho set down her supplies, dipped her brush into the ink bottle, shut her eyes and concentrated.

The warmth of the Great Hall, the scent of bacon and eggs and greasy sausages, the crackle of the fire in the grand hearth dominating one end of the room. She focused on capturing the heat into a cloak, on weaving the spell in ink and paper, turning it into something that would help Yuen travel back to London safely. Her brush dipped, her hand moving through a mixture of instinct, sense, and many years of practice, and when she opened her eyes the ink was drying on a new paper charm. 

“That’s always so pretty, when I see it.” Marietta sighed.

Cho ignored her in favour of cleaning her brush and putting her supplies away. Pretty it might be, but Chinese paper magic was also a lot of work. It took a far higher baseline of knowledge to cast even basic spells, and often Cho wondered whether it was even worth it. No one in Magical Britain, where wand magic held sway, used paper charms. Just look at her parents—magical both and educated in Hong Kong, yet her father stocked shelves at an apothecary in Diagon Alley while her mother taught Mandarin in the Muggle world. Cho was the one who was supposed to establish her family in Britain, and sometimes she wondered whether that meant she should just abandon traditional paper magic in favour of wand magic. 

She thrust the paper charm at the goshawk, releasing the spell. Yuen settled, feeling the spell wrapping around him, and launched himself up and out a window to return to London.

“That was beautiful,” a new voice agreed. Cho looked up.

It would have taken an idiot not to recognize Cedric Diggory. Aside from the fact that the Hufflepuffs kept talking about him and his plans to put himself forward as the Hogwarts Triwizard Champion, Cho had personally faced off against him on the Quidditch pitch last year, Seeker against Seeker. She had won, stealing the Snitch right out from under his nose. He was a seventh-year, and both the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain and a prefect.

More than one of the girls had a crush on him. Cho thought she could see it—his grey eyes sparked with warmth and amusement, over a centurion nose and a confident grin. He was tall, with shoulders broader than one usually saw on a Seeker, and his dark hair fell in smooth curls over his forehead. One of her Housemates was giggling, and inwardly she rolled her eyes.

“Mind if I sit?” Cedric asked, looking at her, and Theresa Yenssen, sitting on Cho’s other side, made room without waiting for a response. She could have frowned at her Housemate for it, but she wouldn’t have declined, so there was nothing to be done for it.

“How can I help you?” she asked automatically. There was no reason for Cedric Diggory to come and seek her out. Not even if Cho thought she could give him some pointers on a broom.

“Ancient Runes,” Cedric replied with a smile. “At NEWT-level, there’s an independent study project, and I thought I wanted to look into cultures that still use runes or runic systems as their main method of casting magic. Professor Babbling suggested that I talk to you about it. She says that you’re trained in traditional Chinese magic?”

“She is!” Marietta said, leaning past her. “I mean, you saw some just now, I suppose.”

Cho frowned slightly at her friend. She wasn’t sure what to think—paper-casting was something that she _did_ , but it wasn’t special. It wasn’t _exotic_ , and it was a very everyday thing for tens of thousands of witches and wizards in the East. “It depends what you mean by trained,” she murmured, looking away. “I practice it, yes, but I wouldn’t call myself an expert.”

Cedric paused, picking up on her reticence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest that it was unusual or anything, it’s just—well, a lot of people around the world still use runic systems to cast magic. It’s really a bit conceited for us to call the subject Ancient Runes, as if runes were a magical tradition that’s died out completely. I was hoping you’d be able to talk to me about how runes are practiced in everyday life.”

“Cho can definitely do that,” Marietta cut in, but this time Cho interrupted. Sometimes she didn’t mind Marietta or her other friends answering for her, but this was not one of those times.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but my life isn’t a study project,” she said instead. “I’m not a specimen to be studied or a cool essay topic. If you want to know how runic magic is used in everyday life, you need to actually learn one of the runic systems and practice it. This isn’t something you can do with just a chat.”

Cedric seemed to think about her words. “Will you teach me, then?” he asked. “I didn’t mean to say that you were—I want to do it right. I have all year. Please?”

Cho hesitated, mentally running through her schedule. It was OWL year for her, and she was already behind on her study schedule. Her parents wanted her to do her traditional Chinese magic exams that summer too, and if she was behind on her OWL subjects, she was triply behind on her Chinese magic studies. Teaching Cedric would force her to revise, would keep her from being drawn into the Quidditch talks or games in the common room and on track. She didn’t have Quidditch, so she could slot him in where she used to have practice.

“Fine,” she caved. “Meet me Wednesday after dinner, Ravenclaw Tower. I’ll see if I can find us a study room.”

* * *

Ravenclaw Tower had no less than a dozen study rooms. They weren’t only used for studying—a lot of students used them to experiment, and in more ways than one. Cho interrupted a couple sucking face, a group of students alternately working on or crying over a Potions essay, and one of her yearmates blowing something up before finding an empty study room. It was small and whoever had used it last had left a pile of crumpled parchment scraps on the table, which was probably why no one had taken it yet.

“This will work,” she said, not looking at Cedric following her. A wave of her wand had the parchment scraps sailing into a waste bin beside the door.

“Do I still have Prefect responsibilities in another House?” Cedric was frowning, but Cho didn’t think his question was a serious one. “I feel like I should be saying something—Fawcett, wasn’t it? I didn’t recognize the girl.”

Cho shrugged. “It was Gibbons, and the doors don’t lock—can’t even spell them to lock. Unless they’re into having people interrupting or watching, they won’t go much further than snogging.”

“Clever,” Cedric commented, taking a seat and pulling out a scroll of parchment. Cho’s eyes lingered on the parchment for a moment—the material was expensive enough that she could usually tell a lot about someone by what paper they happened to use. People from Muggle families, or who were integrated in the Muggle world, or who didn’t have a lot of money tended to use Muggle paper, so the fact that Cedric pulled out a scroll of fresh parchment instead of a sheet of A4 said that he either had no connections to the Muggle world, or that he had money and didn’t mind burning it.

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. Who cared what kind of paper Cedric Diggory used?

“I thought we’d start with a brief primer on how paper magic works,” Cho started, pulling out her own materials. A piece of parchment, which was far better for magic than paper; her special inkbottle, and a brush. “Paper magic requires a lot more work than wand magic. To begin, it requires literacy in whatever runic system you’re using, and at quite a high level—essentially, you need to be able to read and write in the language of the runic system that you’re using. Speaking the language also helps, but you basically need to be able to write in the language as you would English.”

“Which is why they have enduring potential in countries that still use ideograms.” Cedric caught on quickly. “I suppose English could be used as a runic system too, couldn’t it?”

Cho shrugged. “No reason why not. But it would be bulkier—the trick in runic systems is accurately describing what you want to happen. It takes a lot more characters in English than it does in Chinese to impart the same meaning. When you have wands and can get most of the same results on incantation, wand movement, and intent, why learn to do something so difficult as accurately describing the effects you want to see in words? You don’t need literacy in wand-based casting. You just need a memory.”

“ _Most_ of the same results,” Cedric repeated, taking notes. “You can’t produce the same results with a wand, then.”

“Runic magic allows us to be a lot more precise.” Cho nodded, reaching for her inkbottle. “It also allows us to find shortcuts for magic to preserve energy or make spells last longer. For example, the heating spell you saw me casting a few days ago; I could have cast a Heating Charm on Yuen for his trip home, which would have kept him warm and flying for maybe two hours, and taken the heat from me. Instead, with a paper charm, I knit the warmth from the Great Hall itself around him, and it’ll hold long enough for him to get home to London. With greater control and precision, you can also do things that simply can't be done with wand magic—if you can describe it accurately enough, you can do it. For example, the real reason that the Unforgiveable Curses are unblockable is because none of the shield spells are specific enough to combat them, but you could make a paper charm specific enough to counter any one of them. That would be very advanced paper magic though, a poem or proverb or something like that.”

Cedric nodded in understanding. “But how does it work? What differentiates, say, a regular poem or an essay from a spell?”

“The ink.” Cho picked up her inkbottle. “This isn’t pre-made—it’s inkstone and water mixed with a few drops of my blood. That’s what makes it work. You can start casting basic spells with the materials and a book, but what makes it difficult, and how you get the precision, is through calligraphy. The weight of your lines matter—the conciseness of your characters matters, the context and your intent matters. It takes years to develop the instincts to do runic magic effectively.”

“I see.” Cedric nodded again. “So—where do I start?”

* * *

Surprisingly, Cedric was a good student. Or maybe that wasn’t surprising. From all that Cho had heard about him before, he had good grades and the professors spoke well of him. Maybe what was surprising was his personality. For someone as popular as he was, especially after he became one of the two Hogwarts Triwizard Champions, Cho would have expected him to be far more—

Bigheaded. Egoistic. Proud, full of himself. When she watched him in the Great Hall, or in the hallways between classes, he was always surrounded by a crowd of friends and admirers. He drew more attention than Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian National Seeker and the Durmstrang Champion, and Cho had seen a few girls begging for his autograph. One of them, and Cho was ashamed to see that it was a fellow Ravenclaw, had even asked Cedric to sign her chest in lipstick.

But he wasn’t—far from it, he was down to earth and rather self-effacing. When they met to work on runic casting, he never complained, not even when Cho nitpicked his basic characters and made him copy them out another hundred times. As for the attention in the corridors, she had thought that he had been embarrassed by it, his cheeks turning pink as he tried to wave his admirers off. 

At least, that was what she had thought before he missed one of their weekly meetings.

By now, two weeks into November, Cedric was good at figuring out the riddles to enter Ravenclaw Tower on his own. She had taken to grabbing study rooms ahead of time and using the time she waited for him to try to catch up on her own studying and to review the basics of paper-magic for herself. The traditional caster exams weren’t easy, and unlike the witches and wizards in Hong Kong, she didn’t practice paper magic full time. She had ten other subjects to write OWLs in too, and she needed Os in all of Charms, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions and Herbology to have a fighting chance at the Healing programs. Ideally, she needed Os in everything.

She had never had straight Os. Straight Os felt like a dream, and the worst part was that they didn’t even feel like an unachievable dream. Cho’s grades were always a mix of Es and Os, and she always thought that if she just worked a little harder, if she just hadn’t been distracted so much by Quidditch or common room debates or other things, that it would happen. This was the year where it needed to happen, because this was the year that Healer programs looked at when reviewing applications. And yet, other than Cedric’s tutoring sessions, Cho found herself in largely the same spot as she always did: distracted, and pulling the motley group of Es and Os she had been dragging around forever.

The hour came, and then it went. At first, Cho had thought Cedric was just running late—they were six weeks into these tutoring sessions, and after the Triwizard Champions were named, Cedric often got caught up in crowds or delayed by people in the Ravenclaw common room. He had always, she had thought, found a way to politely excuse himself and come to meet her as quickly as he could. He had always shown up, apologized, and then they had gotten on with the lesson.

Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty. Then thirty, and around forty-five, Cho realized that he probably wasn’t going to show up at all. After an hour, she threw in the towel and went back to her room.

She had an essay about Vanishing Spells to write, and after that she needed to revise for a potions practical. If Cedric couldn’t even be bothered to let her know when he couldn’t make a meeting, then she had better things to do than to wait for him. 

* * *

“Cho!” 

The voice floated down the corridor towards her. She ignored it.

“Cho, wait for me!”

She didn’t even look at him, but Marietta paused and poked her in the side. “It’s Cedric,” she hissed. “Don’t be rude.”

“I know who it is, Marietta.” Despite herself, Cho stopped and turned around, catching sight of Cedric hurrying towards her. From this perspective, she could see that he towered over her—Cho was tall by Hong Kong standards, but in the wider world that didn’t mean much. 

Marietta giggled. “I’ll go on ahead,” she said with an airy wave, and disappeared.

“I just wanted to say I’m really, really sorry,” Cedric panted. “I know I missed our session last night—it was my birthday, and my friends surprised me. I really didn’t mean to. Can we reschedule?”

Cho was silent, her mind whirring. On one hand, she understood that things happened, and Cedric was a better student than she could have expected. He didn’t complain, and he didn’t tease her for her work ethic, and he took paper magic seriously and not as a weird, outdated, pretty tradition of no real consequence. On the other, Cho was busy. Her homework was heavier this year than it had ever been before, and all her professors seemed to be of the view that if they only assigned more essays, they would all succeed on their OWLs. It was even worse with the visiting students, since all the professors seemed to be trying to impress their visitors. Cho felt like she was perpetually running to catch up, but only falling behind. She had only gotten an E on her last Charms paper, and she thought she was good at Charms!

“I understand,” Cho found herself saying stiffly. “It’s fine.”

“So—tonight? Tomorrow night?” Cedric grinned. It was the smile of someone who expected her to cave, because with a smile like that, most would. But she didn’t want to, and she had too much other studying to do. Her schedule was full, and if she wanted to make the Healing program, then she didn’t have time to tutor someone. Not really, not even if Cedric helped keep her on track in at least one area of her life. She had only done it as a favour anyway, and she hated having her time wasted. She really, _really_ hated having her time wasted. 

“I’m really busy,” Cho said instead, looking away. “It’s OWL year for me, and I really need to do well. I’m aiming to get into a Healing program, and I really—I really don’t have time to keep helping you on your independent study project—”

Cedric’s grey eyes seemed to be a little hurt. “Because I missed one meeting? For my birthday?”

“You were late twice before that too,” Cho retorted, flushing, the words falling out of her mouth before she could massage them into something more polite. “Look, I don’t _owe_ you my help. I’m not obligated to help you, and things like being late, or missing meetings—I have things to do too. I think you’re at a good place now. You have that light spell we’ve been playing with, and we started that water spell a couple weeks ago. That should be enough to be getting along with, and Professor Babbling doesn’t know anything about the modern practice of runic magic anyway. None of the professors, as far as I know, do. You’ll be fine.”

She turned around, but Cedric caught her by the arm. “But what if I want to learn more? What if—”

“We’re both late for class,” Cho said quietly. “Let go of me. Please.”

Remarkably, he did.

* * *

She should have known that he would be persistent. He caught her in the Great Hall again at dinner, making apologies. She pointed out that she had already accepted his apology and ducked the question when he asked to reschedule. He caught her a day later at breakfast to offer her some of what he called his mother’s best breakfast scones, and she politely refused him. He even followed her out onto the Quidditch pitch a few days later, when she was blowing off some steam on her Comet Two-Sixty, chasing her down with his Cleansweep Six.

She had flattened him on the Quidditch pitch before, and she did it again. It didn’t matter that his broom was faster and newer than hers—she was smaller and lighter, and she could and did fly loops around him. She was off the pitch and gone before he could follow.

He even tried chasing her down in Hogsmeade on their Hogsmeade weekend, but she managed to lose herself with other friends in the Three Broomsticks. It was easiest to lose him in crowds, she had learned—Cedric tended to be waylaid when there were a lot of other people around, and he was too polite to say no. And, she thought uncharitably, he probably enjoyed the attention.

Classes ended early for the First Task, and Cho followed Marietta into the stands, watching as her friend talked someone into giving them prime seats for the show. She really should have been taking the time to study, but Marietta had pointed out that everyone at school would be watching the First Task. Cho could hardly miss it, not when everyone at school would be there. She would feel guilty about watching it, but she wouldn’t have been able to concentrate, so she’d simply have to catch up later.

“Do you know what they’re doing?” she asked, turning to Marietta.

“Being a prefect doesn’t get me access to special information, you know.” Her friend grinned, red curls bobbing. “In fact, when they do, it’s usually a bad thing. You know about as much as I do, but whatever it is, it’s going to be good.”

“Those are dragon eggs, I’m pretty sure,” Terry Boot said nearby, looking down with a pair of Omnioculars. 

“Dragons?” Marietta whipped around to look at him. “Are you sure?”

“Well, what else lays eggs that big and are suitably terrifying for a Triwizard Tournament task?” Terry replied reasonably. “They unleashed cockatrices in about 1793 or something, so they’re not shying from danger.”

“Dragons aren’t quite as dangerous as cockatrices anyway,” Anthony Goldstein chipped in, stealing Terry’s Omnioculars. “Cockatrices need a Parselmouth to be tamed—dragons are kept in reserves, nowadays. They’re dangerous, but not uncontrollable.”

“So, we’re _not_ going to watch anyone being set on fire today?” Marietta said, a hint of humour in her voice. 

“Probably not.” Terry grinned back. “But I wouldn’t say no to seeing Potter set on fire.”

Cho shook her head, turning back to the grounds. She knew about the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor Triwizard Champion rivalry, but she hadn’t paid any attention to the particulars. She was just here to watch something interesting, and then she had an Arithmancy problem set to solve. When Ludo Bagman came out, announcing the opening, she let the sound swirl around her even as she leaned forwards to watch.

Cedric was the first Champion out, facing off against a Welsh Green. She watched as he dashed one way, and then the other, aiming to get to the clutch of eggs at the other end of the Quidditch pitch. The dragon, though medium-sized as far as dragons tended to go, was still faster than him. At least he hadn’t taken to blasting the creature, which wouldn’t have worked anyway—but when he pulled out a sheet of parchment, her mouth dropped open.

“He doesn’t have the skill for that,” she heard herself yelling, not that anyone could hear her. “He’s got a light-spell and a water-spell, and they aren’t even very good spells! What does he think he’s _doing?_ ”

There was a flash of light from the pitch, blindingly bright, and the dragon only staggered back slightly. It wasn’t enough, which Cho could have told him, but she supposed he had to try something and a paper light-spell could burn brighter than _Lumos,_ which was intended to provide light and not _blind_ people with light. He made a dash forward as the dragon paused, blinking, and Cho held her breath when the great creature came roaring after him.

He wouldn’t make it—not without another distraction. His wand was out, and she saw him point it at a rock. An incantation that she couldn’t hear, and then the rock was a dog, yapping loudly and tearing off past the dragon. The dragon stopped again, smoke curling from its nostrils, and Cedric was almost at the clutch of eggs before it decided that it would rather have him than the dog.

A jet of liquid fire came roiling out at Cedric, and the line grazed him across the face. Cho sucked in a breath, watching as Cedric pulled out a second sheet of parchment and slapped it against his cheek, but he was close to the clutch of eggs now. The dragon drew back to release another burst of flame, but Cedric grabbed the egg, dove behind the clutch, and was gone.

* * *

“You’re an idiot,” she said, walking into the tent to see Cedric with an ugly orange paste covering half of his face. “What were you even thinking?”

“I’m not sure I was?” Cedric grinned, then he winced. “Ouch.” 

“Fire-proofing spells are much more difficult,” Cho informed him steadily. “Also, they’re a variant of air spells, because what you’d want to do is trap a layer of cold air against your skin, not use a water spell.”

“Does that mean you’re willing to teach me again?” Cedric waved the spent paper charm—the ink had disappeared, so it was little more than a paper-charm-shaped piece of parchment. “Madam Pomfrey said that the water spell kept my burn from being as bad as it could have been.”

Cho fell silent, studying him for a moment. His grey eyes were bright, feverishly so, and filled with hope. More hope than she would have expected, if she were honest, but she couldn’t deny that he had _used_ paper magic. 

He had used it. Not just for an experiment, not just in the privacy of their study room, but in a real, live situation. He had used paper magic the way that she used paper magic, as a part of herself—an annoying part, sometimes, but still a part of her. He had used paper magic naturally, like it was a completely normal thing that people did in Magical Britain.

If he was going to do that, he should at least do it properly, and not like a child who had just learned how to write.

“Fine,” she said with a sigh, mentally rearranging her schedule. “But if you want to use runic paper magic, you’re going to have to practice quite a lot more. And if you ever skip a meeting with me again, you can forget it.”

* * *

Cedric was distracted. At first, Cho had thought it was just the draft from the study room window, but after he put down the strokes for 火, or fire, in the wrong order three times, she knew something was wrong. It was a much simpler character than 光, or light, or even 水, for water. It was only four strokes, how hard could it be to do it in the right order?

“All right, what is it?” she said finally, on the verge of giving up. “You’re not yourself today.”

Cedric sighed, putting down his brush. “Cho—have you…?”

His voice trailed off. She stared at him, waiting for him to go on.

“Have you got a date for the Yule Ball yet?” he asked, the words coming out in a great rush. His cheeks were turning pink. 

Cho blinked. “Excuse me?”

“The Yule Ball,” Cedric repeated. “Have you—have you got a date yet?”

“It was just announced a few days ago,” Cho replied slowly. “I don’t think many people have dates yet. Not unless they’re already seeing someone.”

“But do _you_ have a date yet?”

“Well, I wasn’t really—” Cho shifted in her seat, looking away. “I hadn’t decided whether I was going, yet. My parents expect me at home, and all.”

“So that’s a no, right?” Cedric’s smile, which she would have expected to be a winning one, was instead shy. “Will you come to the Yule Ball with me?”

“I—” She cut herself off, trying to put her feelings into words. She should be flattered, that one of the most popular blokes in school was asking her to the event of the season, but instead she was just confused, and maybe a little suspicious.

It wasn’t that Cho didn’t know that she was pretty. She was attractive, and that much was evident by the number of boys that blushed when she looked at them. But she didn’t tend to take notice of it because she knew what they saw.

She was Chinese—that was the first thing that anyone would see when they looked at her, the one characteristic that she could never escape from. She was Chinese, and she was a girl, and that came with a set of traits that Cho had never had any part in deciding and that she wasn’t sure that she embodied.

Smart and hardworking, probably. Her friends thought so. Polite and respectful? She tried to be, most of the time, but it didn’t come naturally to her as it seemed to for others. Meek? Submissive? _Exotic?_

Cho was just a person. She wanted to be a _person_ to whoever she dated—a person first, and not the strange mix of stereotypes and assumptions and associations that came out of being Chinese. 

But Cedric was watching her, his face falling as he watched her thoughts playing across her face. And she looked down at his papers, at rows of neatly copied out Chinese characters, and she remembered him stupidly using a child’s paper charm against a dragon. 

“Why me?” she asked instead. “Why—you could have anyone in the school. Why me?”

Cedric blinked. “Because you attack things,” he said, as if he was surprised that she had even asked. “Because you’re one of the most focused, goal-oriented, uncompromising people I’ve ever met, and you work hard for what you want. And in between those moments, when you’re doing something you love, and you smile… Do you have any idea what it’s like when you relax and smile? It’s like—once, Professor Snape gave me an O on an essay. Your smile is better than that. I—in case you haven’t noticed, Cho, I really like you. I really, really like you.”

Cho blinked in reply, utterly flummoxed. “Professor Snape has never given _me_ an O,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

“Because you have to read and reference current research for it.” Cedric broke into a smile. “You can’t get anything other than an A if you rely on just the material he refers to in class, if you look up additional books in the library he might give you an E, but the academic Potions journals might get you an O. Please, please let me take you to the Yule Ball, Cho.”

Cho hesitated. It would be another distraction, but then again... “I’d have to ask my parents about staying at school over the holidays.” 

His hopeful expression bore into her.

She sighed. “I’ll ask them.”

* * *

For all her words that she would have to ask her parents, the reality was that Cho knew exactly what she needed to say to convince her parents to let her stay at Hogwarts for the holidays. There were certain things that her parents would never second-guess her on, since they hadn’t gone through a Hogwarts education themselves: the OWL and NEWT exam system, the materials she needed for her classes, the process for becoming a Healer. It was as easy as telling her parents that everyone in the fifth and seventh years stayed at Hogwarts over the holidays to maximize their study time, and permission was granted for her, too, to stay.

It wasn’t really a lie, she told herself. Or most of what she said might be a lie, but she probably would spend more of the holiday studying at school than she would have otherwise. It would be a good way for her to catch up, maybe even get ahead. At home, there were a thousand distractions, from her father wanting to review her calligraphy progress, to various events with uncles and aunties mostly non-magical that her mother had met through work, even to hours-long visits to yum cha. 

She would miss the yum cha—Hogwarts had never been good at serving anything except straight British fare—but she had a date. Her first date, and she could go yum cha over the summer. 

Cho examined herself in the mirror. The pale blue hanfu, made of several pieces, had taken forever to put on and to arrange properly so that the pleats hung correctly. The top piece, covering her arms, was transparent but woven with sparkling, shining heat-spells, while the skirt flowed to her ankles. The whole outfit sparkled with a hidden glitter-spell.

She couldn’t help sneaking a peek at the other girls in her dorm. They were all in traditional British robes. Her dress didn’t look that different, she thought—she hoped. 

Oh, who was she kidding? She looked different. Her robes were different, and they weren’t the same as anyone else’s robes. She should have thought of this earlier, then she could have tried to borrow someone else’s robes and spelled them to fit her, but she hadn’t thought too much about it before. Or she hadn’t wanted to ask. Most people didn’t have more than one set of formal robes, and most people were wearing their own robes to go to the Yule Ball. And then there was the matter of finding a set of formal robes that flattered her…

“You look great, Cho!” Marietta chirped. Cho caught a look of Marietta’s expression in the mirror—her best friend was beaming, but there was an understanding tilt to her smile. Marietta, more than any of her other friends, understood the strange balance that Cho often felt she had to strike between her heritage and British culture. Or maybe it was better put that Marietta understood that she didn’t understand, but accepted Cho no matter how contrary she might be from one moment to another. “Cedric is going to have a heart attack when he sees you.”

Cho shrugged, a little uncomfortable. “I’m going to be walking in ahead of everyone else,” she said, fiddling at her soft, flowing skirt. “Everyone’s going to be watching me.”

“Let them,” Marietta replied with a grin. “They’re just going to be seeing a stunning girl walking in with one of the Hogwarts Triwizard Champions. Let me do your make-up—I think we’ll go soft instead of dramatic. Looks better with the robes, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” Cho replied, lifting her chin with a smile. She didn’t look like everyone else, but that didn’t change no matter what clothes she wore. There was nothing for it but to brazen it out.

Cedric was waiting for her outside Ravenclaw Tower, and the expression on his face said everything. His robes, deep green and trimmed in gold, lent a warm undertone to his skin, and she had to admit that he was very handsome. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, holding one hand out to her. When she took it, she found that he was trembling. “I—you’re so beautiful.”

She laughed a little, feeling her cheeks heating. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He grinned. “I have to be, to stand beside you.” He twined his fingers with her, and his palm was large, warm, and steady. “Shall we?”

The Yule Ball was everything that Cho could have ever dreamed, and several things that she didn’t think she had the creativity to dream. The food, special-ordered, was delicious; the music, the atmosphere, the conversation, the warmth of Cedric’s bulk beside her and his steady arms around her when they danced were perfect. Everything was perfect, right up to the moment that he walked her back to Ravenclaw Tower. 

Standing outside the Tower door, he hesitated. “May I?”

“May you what?” Cho laughed, shivering a little. After the warmth of the Great Hall, the corridors in the towers were drafty and cold. 

He smiled sheepishly, then he leaned down and pressed his mouth against hers. He tasted of warmth, of something sweet, and his arms cradled her gently as he held her. It was a shy kiss, and as she responded, he deepened the kiss and brought one hand up to stroke her cheek.

“Oh,” she said, when he broke away, flushing. 

“Oh,” Cedric agreed, his breath ragged in the silence. “I’ll—have a good night, Cho.”

* * *

“Cho,” Marietta said, shaking her. Her friend had a laugh in her voice, and Cho opened one bleary eye to glare at her. “Wake up.”

“Why?” She frowned. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten in the morning. Cedric is waiting in the common room for you.” Marietta giggled, sitting on the edge of Cho’s bed. “Yesterday was good, wasn’t it? From a distance, it looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

Cho smiled. “It was magical. Cedric kissed me.”

“Well, of course he kissed you,” Marietta replied, shoving her playfully. “What did you think he was going to do?”

“It was my first kiss though.” Cho giggled back, blushing. “It was—it was nice.”

“Nice? Was that all it was?” Marietta raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell him that.”

Cho sat up, shoving her friend back. “I don’t know what else to say about it! But it was really nice.”

“Well, if you can’t come up with a better description than _nice_ , better say nothing at all and just keep blushing like that,” Marietta replied wisely, with a nod. “Come on, get up, before one of the first- or second-years talks Cedric’s ear off.”

Cho giggled again. “Fine—tell him I’m just getting dressed, I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Marietta winked. “I’ll tell him exactly that.”

She ducked when Cho threw her pillow at her and ran out the door.

Cho dithered over what to wear for all of a minute. There was a moment where she thought about dressing to impress, but Cedric had seen her dressed plainly more often than not, so she just pulled on a pair of black jeans and a royal blue jumper before heading down into the common room. Cedric was surrounded by a crowd of first- through third-years, but the second he saw her, he stood. The underclassmen looked between them, giggled, and melted away to other corners of the common room.

“I, er—” he said, blushing in turn. “I missed you, so—so I thought I’d come and invite you on a walk of the castle?”

Cho had the silliest grin on her face, and she knew it. “I really should be studying today,” she demurred. “I have OWLs this year. And you have NEWTs.”

“Just a few hours,” Cedric pleaded, taking a step forward. “And I’ll help you catch up later. I had good OWL grades.”

Cho hesitated, looking at the time. “Well, if we come back to study later…”

“We will.” Cedric hastened to reassure her.

“Then, I suppose just a few hours is fine,” Cho agreed, and she let Cedric put one arm around her and lead her out of Ravenclaw Tower.

A few hours turned into a few days, which turned into weeks. There weren’t only walks on the grounds, though there were a lot of those; there was also quite a lot of time spent studying or kissing in the Ravenclaw study rooms, or cuddling in the Hufflepuff common room in front of the fire, or with their other friends. They ate together at meals, alternating between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, and by the time that classes started again, they were nearly inseparable. 

* * *

Valentine’s Day was a Hogsmeade weekend, and Cho woke up with a smile on her face. She had managed to get two essays done early last week, so today, just for today, she could be free. No homework, no essays, not even any calligraphy practice, because Cedric had winked and said he had something planned.

Cho had been to Hogsmeade many times before, but somehow, the prospect of exploring the snow-covered village with Cedric made the whole thing seem new. They could go to Flourish and Blotts—they wouldn’t have any brushes or inkstones, but they had parchment and premade ink was good for practice. If it didn’t interfere with Cedric’s plans, anyway.

He was waiting down in the Entrance Hall for her, a dark green cloak over his shoulders. That wasn’t the uniform standard, but then, Cedric had grown up in a wizarding family. Technically, so had Cho, but Cho’s family was more integrated into the Muggle world. Other than her school uniform, most of her clothes were Muggle in style. 

Cedric looked good in green, Cho decided, and not for the first time. Something about the colour complimented his colouring, and she took the hand he offered her without hesitation.

“You look nice,” he offered, eyeing her dark blue peacoat. From someone else, Cho might have wondered if they were joking—from Cedric, she knew it was genuine. He thought she looked good in everything. “Hogsmeade?”

“Hogsmeade,” Cho agreed. “You said you had plans. Show me.”

He led her to Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop, which was packed with students on dates—first dates, long-time couples, and many more in-between. Cho had been to Madam Puddifoot’s before, because it was the only place to get really good tea in Hogsmeade, but Valentine’s Day weekend was the one weekend where she tended to avoid it. 

Madam Puddifoot’s taste in décor was questionable at the best of times. She decorated in what Cho would normally have thought of as “vintage”, with a heavy emphasis on pink, and flowers, and idyllic scenes of the English countryside. Most of the time, Cho didn’t mind—there was something nice about the afternoon tea experience, and Madam Puddifoot did it the best.

But on Valentine’s Day…

It was too crowded, the chatter and smell of cookies and cakes overwhelming. The tiny tea-shop had been expanded, but Madam Puddifoot had tried to preserve the intimacy of the shop by adding too much pink and too much red. The twined red and white streamers ran over the ceilings and along the walls, giving the impression that they were in a grand, ridiculous circus tent, and pink confetti hearts rained down from ornate golden chandeliers and fell into the tea.

She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Madam Puddifoot’s was easy, but she let Cedric lead her to an empty table and pull out her chair. Madam Puddifoot welcomed her warmly, bringing out Cho’s favourite Assam tea, along with a plate of sugar cookies and shortbread.

It was so easy, and she had thought that Cedric knew her better. But she could hardly complain—reservations at Madam Puddifoot’s were hard to come by on Valentine’s Day, and it did take some planning. 

She would have rather spent a couple hours in Flourish and Blotts looking at ink.

“You’re not enjoying yourself,” Cedric said, a worried crease between his eyebrows, halfway through the tea and cookies. “I thought you liked Madam Puddifoot’s? Marietta said you did.”

Cho shrugged. “I like the tea here. It’s fine, Cedric.”

Cedric rolled his eyes. He _actually_ rolled his eyes at her. “I’ve heard that before,” he said, his tone showing that while he was admonishing her, he wasn’t really upset. “I wanted to do something special, and I thought—well, Marietta said you liked Madam Puddifoot’s for afternoon tea, and I figured she would have something special for Valentine’s Day. I just didn’t expect this.”

“I would have been fine just walking around, Cedric.” Cho sighed, but her lips tilted in a small smile. “I know, Hogsmeade is small. There aren’t a lot of options, and by now, we’ve both been here every month for years.”

“Yes—” Cedric cut himself off suddenly. “Hogsmeade is small.”

Cho blinked. “Yes.”

Cedric had a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Tell me, Cho, if you could be anywhere in Britain right now, where would you most want to be?”

Cho blinked again. “Er—”

“Don’t think too hard about it. Just tell me.” 

She paused. Whatever Cedric had said about not thinking too hard about it, she couldn’t do anything but think about it, because she didn’t have an answer. Where did she want to be most right now, if she could be anywhere else in Britain?

Not at school, that was for certain. With Cedric, but she thought that was a given. 

Britain was a big place. There were many cities that she’d be happy to see or that she had thought of seeing one day, like Cardiff, or Edinburgh, or Manchester—there were sights that she had never seen that she had thought she might want to one day, like Stonehenge. But she didn’t want to see them right now. They were things she wanted to see one day, but not now.

She was hungry. Cookies and tea were delicious, but they weren’t very filling. Cedric had shown her how to get snacks from the Hogwarts kitchens, but she didn’t want Hogwarts food, either.

A full, steaming bowl of noodles that smelled of rich broth studded with slices of char siu pork or barbequed duck with wontons. Fried rice with shrimp and egg and vegetables. Cantonese chow mein, the noodles still crunchy on the top and soaked in sauce on the bottom, with pieces of squid and scallops and shrimps piled high. She wanted siu mai and har gow and cheung fun with cheap restaurant oolong. Madam Puddifoot’s had great tea, but sometimes one just wanted a cup of cheap restaurant oolong tea.

“London,” she said finally, biting into a cookie. “Not Magical London, either. Somewhere where I can eat something that’s not bangers and mash, or shepherd’s pie, or a steak and kidney pie. Chinese food, or Indian food, or that West African chicken stew that tries to burn your face off. Something with actual spices in it.”

“London,” Cedric repeated, and by now he was positively beaming. He pushed his cup of tea away and stood. “Wait outside—I’ll settle up with Madam Puddifoot’s, and we’ll go.”

“We’ll go?” Cho asked, confused and standing up in turn. “Go where?”

But Cedric was already walking to Madam Puddifoot’s two-foot long counter, pulling out coins to pay for their tea and biscuits. 

She repeated the question when Cedric reappeared outside the door, his cloak over his arm. “What do you mean, we’ll go?London is a day’s train ride away.”

Cedric’s curls were wild in the wind, but he took a long look at her peacoat before Transfiguring his cloak into something similar and pulling it on. “But by Apparation, it’s only a second way.”

“Apparation?” Cho’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean, _Apparation?”_

“The train is just a tradition, and you know it,” Cedric replied, an impulsive grin stretching across his face. “I’m not on duty today, and I have an Apparation licence. I’m of age. As long as we’re back before the Hogwarts gates close, we should be fine.”

“You might be of age, but I’m not!” Cho spluttered, but she didn’t stop him when he grabbed her hand and turned on the spot. 

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. The world pressed itself on her, pushing on her lungs, and she clung to Cedric’s hand with a desperate ferocity. They popped out on the other side, in a back alley near King’s Cross Station. 

“Who’s going to say anything otherwise?” Cedric asked, windswept and merry and looking as though he hadn’t just broken a dozen school rules. “Who’s even going to know?”

She didn’t have an answer for him, and she shut her mouth. He grinned again.

“So, where to?” he asked, looking around. “I’ve only been here to get to the train for school, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to guide me.”

Cho burst into laughter, reaching into her bag for her wallet. She had twenty quid on her, mixed in with wizarding money. Twenty pounds was enough to get them on the Tube to Chinatown, and for two bowls of noodles.

* * *

“Cho!” Marietta knocked on the door to the study room, where she had been criticizing Cedric’s latest fire-charm. The fire character was how most heating charms, as well as a bunch of attack charms and even a couple long-range transportation charms, were formed, but it was hard to explain the transportation charms to Cedric when he really didn’t speak any Chinese at all. There was only so far she could go to explain that in Chinese, “trains” were “fire cars”. 

“Yeah?” Cho asked, looking up.

“Professor McGonagall is asking for you,” Marietta replied, and the expression on her face said that she had no idea what it was about either. “Can you come?”

Cho frowned. “Yes, of course. Give me a minute?”

Professor McGonagall led her to Dumbledore’s office, where she was greeted by Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and a girl too young for school that had to be one of Fleur Delacour’s relatives. The cloud of almost silver-blonde hair didn’t allow for any other explanation. Professor Dumbledore was sitting across from them at a battered wooden desk, and he leaned forward when he saw that she had arrived.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling over his half-moon glasses. “We’ve called you here to ask for your help with the Second Task. As some of you no doubt already know, the Champions are being asked to dive into the lake for an hour to retrieve an item that has been taken from them.”

Cho exchanged a look with the other students. She didn’t know Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger—they were in different houses and years and had no reason to interact—nor did she know the little girl. Of the three of them, only Fleur’s relative looked confused. Potter had to have told his two best friends about the Second Task, just as Cedric had told her about it.

“An item,” Weasley said, looking back at the Headmaster. “Well, I can get Harry’s Firebolt for you—”

“That wasn’t our intention.” Professor Dumbledore smiled gently, and Cho felt a hint of suspicion rising. “We’re asking that _you_ be the items that the Champions must retrieve from the lake.”

“I’m not an item,” Cho replied sharply. “I’m not something that can be _taken_ from someone. Or I shouldn’t be.”

“That wasn’t my intention, Miss Chang,” Professor Dumbledore replied, amused, and Cho blanked her face. She didn’t like the implication—maybe, for Weasley and Granger and the others, it wasn’t as much of an issue. Maybe they weren’t objectified quite as much, or maybe they weren’t as used to having their agency denied. She wasn’t a thing, she wasn’t an object, she was not something that could be stolen. She didn’t like it, but Professor Dumbledore had already looked away.

“You are each very important to the Champions,” he continued, as if Cho’s interjection had meant nothing at all. “So, we would like you each to participate in the Second Task, to be rescued by the Champions. Now, everything will be very safe—you will be put in an enchanted sleep, and you’ll be able to breathe by virtue of a spell that I devised. The selkie colony in the lake are among my friends, so they will monitor your condition. You have my word that, if anything goes wrong, you will be rescued from the lake regardless of whether your Champion is able to defeat the odds. Will you help?”

Cho chanced another glance at the others in the room. Weasley was already nodding, but the little girl, Fleur’s relative, looked terrified. Granger looked as though she was torn between intellectual curiosity and concern.

“Do we really have a choice?” Cho asked.

* * *

She woke up when her face broke the surface of the lake. Her robes were heavy, dragging her down, and she floundered for a second before she realized that Cedric was holding her. He was wide-eyed, his mouth open, and his hair was slicked down. He was wearing swimming trunks rather than robes, because the gods forbid that the Headmaster would have let them change into something that would work a little better for the lake. 

“Are you all right?” he asked, clutching her tightly. He was panicked, his worry bleeding through his voice. “Can you swim?”

In reply, Cho spat out a bit of lake water. It was freezing _._ “I’m fine,” she said, starting to kick on her own. Her father had tried to teach her how to swim years ago, but she had never really mastered it. Still, she could float, at least when she didn’t have what felt like thirty pounds of wet robes dragging her down.

“You’re never fine when you say you’re fine.” Cedric sighed, loping one arm over her shoulders, and starting a powerful sidestroke. 

“I’m just angry that I couldn’t say no,” Cho muttered, looking towards the shore and scowling. “I’m not an item. I’m not an object. I don’t need to be rescued. ”

Cedric smiled. “That’s my Cho.”

Cedric was the first back on shore for the Second Task, meaning that he had top scores. His arm around her shoulders didn’t disappear even once, but there was nothing possessive about it. He just wanted to be with her, a feeling that Cho couldn’t help but share, and not only because Cedric’s bulk radiated heat in the cold, windy, February day. She liked him—she liked that he saw her aggressiveness, her annoyance, her drive, and he only smiled.

She liked Cedric. She even thought she might love him.

* * *

There were months between the Second Task and the Third. Easter came and went, but considering how much work Cho had, it didn’t even feel like a holiday. It felt like a blessed reprieve that let her catch up on her many assignments and get ahead on her OWL study plans. The OWLs seemed to be inching closer, day by day. One half of her wanted the OWL exams to hurry, to come quicker and faster so that she could just get them over with even if she failed them all, while the other half wanted more time. More time to revise, more time to review every note she had taken in the past five years, more time to practice the wand spells that she had learned and some that she wasn’t supposed to learn but had learned anyway. 

It was even harder for her, because she also had to keep track of what was supposed to be correct, instead of what was actually correct. Hogwarts was a wand-magic school, and that meant that all of the questions would be focused on wand magic. That meant that some things that Cho knew were true weren't actually the correct answers; the correct answer to the question "How does one defend against _Avada Kedavra_?" was not "Prepare a paper charm with the exact stipulation of preserving life, preferably in poetic form with a reference to an ancient Chinese scholar or mythic figure", but "The Killing Curse cannot be blocked and it therefore is best to not be hit by it." Sometimes, in her annoyance, Cho couldn't help but feel that Western witchcraft and wizardry was remarkably blind to the powers of other forms of magic.

Cedric studied beside her, his review for the NEWT exams no less feverish. After the Third Task was revealed to the Champions, his preparations for the challenge had become intensely useful for them both; aside from giving him a practice partner, Cho needed all the help she could get for the Defence Against the Dark Arts practical. That subject was one of the required ones for Healing, but their myriad instructors over the past five years had left her, and everyone else, with huge gaps in their knowledge. Practically speaking, most of Defence Against the Dark Arts was self-taught.

The day of the Third Task, they had taken a break. Neither of them could study anyway—Cho’s nerves were shot, both with anticipation and worry, and she couldn’t focus. They would have to catch up later, but by then the Triwizard Tournament would be finished, and they could look fully towards their exams. It was just one more day, and Cho knew that Cedric, sitting beside her, was the same.

But for the moment, the Third Task was hours away. The skies were a bright, pale blue, and the sun shining down was hot even if the breeze was still chilly. They were out of the castle, sitting under a tree beside the Black Lake, and Cho tucked the blanket Cedric had Transfigured for her over her legs. 

“You’re in the lead,” she commented. He was sprawled out on the ground beside her, his arms tucked behind his head. 

“Tied for the lead,” he corrected easily. “But Hogwarts is leading, so it doesn’t really matter. The points don’t mean much—we get more time in the labyrinth, but the winner is still whoever gets to the Cup first.”

“Inefficient,” Cho remarked, reaching out to run her hand through his dark brown curls. “But I suppose they needed something to track who was winning throughout the year. They could have just ranked people first, second, third and fourth, but the numbers give an illusion of impartiality.”

“I love it when you talk nerdy to me.” Cedric smiled, shutting his eyes. “Even when you turn my score into an _illusion of impartiality_.”

Cho laughed. “All right, then. What will you do with the money when you win, then?”

Cedric’s grey eyes were bright. “ _When_ I win?”

“I’m your girlfriend. I’m obligated to believe you’ll win, and to be enraged on your behalf if you don’t,” Cho informed him steadily. “So, what will you do with the money?”

Cedric sat up, thinking. "First, I'm going to take you on a really nice date," he said slowly. “Somewhere in Muggle London, or anywhere else. A really nice dinner, or maybe a show and dinner—that’s a thing in the Muggle world, right?”

“Dinner and a movie is a very traditional dinner date,” Cho agreed, looking up at him. “Though, that doesn’t need a thousand Galleons. You can do that on twenty quid, which is something like four Galleons. What about the other 996?”

“The other 996?” Cedric didn’t answer for a moment, nor did he look at her. His gaze was fixed at some point across the lake, where Cho could see that a bunch of other students, drawn by the good weather, had come out. "This is going to sound really awful, but I think I'm just going to save the rest. For our future.”

Cho gave him a sharp look. His cheeks were painted pink, but they weren’t so pink that he couldn't deny it if she chose to ignore his comment. But she didn't want to ignore it. She hit him on the shoulder. " _Our_ future?”

"Well..." Cedric was certainly blushing now, and he refused to meet her eyes. "I mean—I know we're young but sometimes a bloke just knows, all right? A thousand galleons would go a long way towards a ring, or a wedding, or a house, or—"

Cho’s jaw dropped. “Cedric…”

"I’m not putting any obligations on you, and I’m not asking right now!” Cedric’s eyes flew up to meet hers, and his face was flaming. “I just—let me hope, will you?”

Cho shut her mouth. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Cedric narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

“Okay.” She smiled back and reached for her bag.

A sheet of parchment, and a brush. A bottle of her special ink, which she balanced against a handy rock, and she pinned the parchment down with a loose stick. No wand magic, which could interfere with the result.

She dipped her brush in the inkbottle, shut her eyes, and concentrated. The characters welled up in her—characters for safety, for protection, for the preservation of life welled up in her, and her brush fell onto the parchment. This afternoon was warm, and it was peaceful, and she wanted—she needed—to capture it. This afternoon, and her hopes, her wishes, her dreams for the future, they all made their way into one poem, one spell, captured in a paper prayer. Her hand moved naturally, choosing the weight of the characters by instinct, as she wove their future in blood and ink and parchment.

The protection charm was beautiful. It was elegant, driven by years of thankless study and practice, but when she touched it, she could feel the power that it held. 

She held it out to him, activating it with a tap of her finger. “Take this,” she said. “It won't help you win, but if you find yourself at risk of your life, it will help. And when you come out of the maze tonight…”

“When I come out of the maze tonight?” Cedric prodded, after she had been silent for a moment too long.

“I’ll be waiting.” She smiled, stoppered her inkbottle, and reached up for a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Tavina: In a way, I tried to blend both of your prompts, though I think one always has to be thinking about culture when one writes Cho Chang. Just as Cho says, being Chinese (or appearing so) is the first thing someone sees, and it comes with it a set of stereotypes and assumptions that one never has a choice in deciding and that likely don't fit very well. I admit also that I did lean hard away from the common (and infuriating) "meek", "submissive", "properly feminine" stereotypes that Chinese women are often hit with, and with which I am all too familiar. As Chinese diaspora myself, I also really hope I was able to get relatable 1st/2nd generation feelings and experiences in this piece, from the heavy expectations, to trying to work out what to keep and not of your heritage. I hope you enjoyed!


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